Falling
by drippingwithsin
Summary: The bitter agony of longing for something you'll never get back takes a toll on one Miranda Priestly.[Sequel to Lone Clocks Tick]


**[Sequel to Lone Clocks Tick]**

** AN:** also this was based from the song Falling by the Civil Wars..Download it now its absolutely beautiful.

**Warning:** Non- descriptive **rough** sex

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_Haven't you seen me sleep walking?_  
_'Cause I've been holding your hand_  
_Haven't you noticed me drifting?_  
_Oh, let me tell you, I am_

With a delicately shaped ear pressed deeply into the fabric of a tear stained pillow, Miranda laid there frigidly, sapphire orbs staring unblinking at the far side wall. She waited and prayed for the weekly wifely duty to come to an conclusion. The figure above pumping a boney pelvis against her own pushing his bit of hard into her bit of dry softness. Despite being a periodically event, her body simply refused to produce the moisture needed for this activity. The pain was nearly unbearable but she dared not move, barely even making a sound except for the occasional grunt. Oh, it wasn't because she was frightened. No. Miranda Priestly was not a coward. A lie of course.

It was the simple fact she deserved this. Yes, she deserved to feel that agony of being used, to be tossed around for a night of pleasure.

So, prying graceful fingers away from mussed sheets, she brought shaking hands to sweat slicked hips, urging them onward. The tempo changed to a pounding motion. Miranda's perfect white teeth clenched in a vain attempt to distract the body from the burning sensation between two quivering thighs.

Heavy breathing, moans of one-sided passion, the thumping an expensive king sized bed, then finally silence.

It was over. Relief flooded the senses and the horrifying discomfort was dragged downward into it's dark depths. The pressure of the added weight lifted, rolling away from her, in a minute's time light snores filled the air.

Icy darkness seeped in. Even with the steady breathing of a warm body beside her, she could feel small tendrils of loneliness beginning to creep into an already weeping soul. It was all too much she need some light wither it be artificial or other wise. Carefully as possible she began to untangle weak limps from the marital prison.

But as one foot hit the cool carpet, she could not help the rather loud gasp that made it's way out of thin pink lips. Dread boiled within, clouded blue eyes side glanced the figure beside her and lips parted to let out a relieved breath when she found him still unconscious.

Padding unevenly to the bathroom, she flung open a cabinet, snatching the nearest washcloth, and brought it to the porcelain sink. Warm water soaked the fabric, almost feeling it's cleansing power against long fingers, she sighed deeply. Taking the damp rag a shaky hand she carefully smoothed it over her sore womanhood. Cringing when she pulled it back and noticed a pale pink fluid against the white cloth. She had bled this time.

Shaking her head, she tossed the soiled item into the hamper and strolled back into the dimly lite bedroom. She ignored the bed entirely instead legs aimed her stiff body towards the exit.

* * *

Reaching the small cluttered room that is her study, blue irises lock onto liquor cabinet in the far corner, contents like a siren's call, that she could never fully resist. Miranda takes lets out a ragged breath trying not to think about the sweet costly relief the strong liquid has brought her over this past few months.

It only takes a few moments for the overwhelming temptation to take over _Just one glass. _Another lie. She snorts, isn't that what the great Miranda Priestly is best at. Lying, spinning webs of deception like some sort of mythical weaver. She strolls stiffly over and pours a good sized tumbler of Scotch. _No ice cubes Mira, no need to mess up fine liquor_. Her father's advice, of course.

A bitter laugh. Then again, one would have to drunk to put up with one Helena Priestly.

_Here's to you mother. _Tilting the glass back, she takes long healthy gulp of the strong liquor, it's tingling sting causing tears to prickle the corners of closed eyes.

* * *

Minutes tick by of rapidly disappearing liquid, the sharp clink of glass upon glass, and unwavering self loathing.

Once crystal clear blue eyes turn into dull grey pits of misery and the famous regal posture melts into a puddle of drunken bless, Miranda grins manically. She has finally achieved numbness.

The grin falls only to be replaced by twisted lips of agony. Andrea, she needs Andrea. Days of calling, texting, and waiting with the only reply being silence. Oh, how she longed to caress that soft pale skin just once more. To feel the warmth of that lingering gaze and to run gentle finger through those dark silken locks. _  
_

Unsteady hands quickly shoot down to the neatly organized desk and snatch up their prize with bitter glee. The device clutched above an excited heart, she walks a sideways path to the soft love seat and plopped down. Impatiently she scrolls through the memory for a few heart beats until a small smile breaks out , the buried prize has been found.

She curls into the fetal position, a shaky hand placing the cell to an eager ear, she laid there and waited.

_"Hey Miranda, just wanted to know where you're at."_ a pause. _"Well call me when you get a chance." _  
Her elegant pale throat tightened at the voice, smooth as shaved chocolate, it never failed to bring goose pimples to heated flesh.

Once again she played it, then another, and by the twentieth time heavy lids finally slip shut. The black abyss of unconsciousness dragging a damaged mind downward away from the harsh realities of the world. Never a permanent relief but always a welcome one.

**END**

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**AN:** Once again I wanted it to be realistic so I did not make them get back together. Just like in real life married people usually do not leave their marriages for other people. I did not put a rape warning because it was not.


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